


funds

by scandalous



Series: Kinktober 2019 [11]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Background Poly, Banter, Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, F/M, Formalwear, M/M, Multi, Suit Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 03:04:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21264044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalous/pseuds/scandalous
Summary: Wilson loves when House wears suits.





	funds

**Author's Note:**

> for kinktober day 11 with the prompt 'formal wear'. it's officially not-october in this corner of the world but, still working on it!
> 
> PS: it's a little over midnight over here, i'm really sleepy and i didn't proofread . sorry about any errors
> 
> enjoy!

Wilson is not sure why, but House in a suit is the hottest thing he has ever seen.

Perhaps it's because it's not a common sight. House seldom wears suits, and usually only when he's forced to by circumstance. A fund raiser he  _ has _ to attend, even if just to play poker and throw innuendos both at him and Cuddy. Or other formal events he hems and haws about until he's sure he has no other choice but to go and dress appropriately for. He remembers fondly the few times House violated a dress code as purposefully as he could, going to a fund raiser for the oncology department with blue jeans and a band t-shirt on. Cuddy's glare was glorious; the way House's ass was bright red once she was done with him, even more so.

But right now, House is rocking the formal wear. A suit that seems a little off in size, although he can't quite tell if because it's too big or too small. The bow tie on his neck only exacerbates the look of it not being his usual clothing, with how he fiddles with the black dress pants he has on as he shifts on his seat.

"Excuse me, Lisa," Wilson says, leaning in to give her a quick peck on the lips. House glares at him. "We have… matters to attend to. House and I."

Cuddy raises a brow at him. "You can tell me you're going to suck him off in the bathroom, you know? I won't rat you out."

Wilson can't help but blush at that. "You might."

She clicks her tongue. "No I won't. Go exercise your oral fixation, James."

"It's a House fixation, rather," he sneers at her as he straightens up, making a vague motion to the men's bathroom. House grins at him viciously, like a bird of prey about to swoop down. The look on House's face only makes him more eager, more determined on pleasing him while he looks like this.

The walk to the bathroom is silent, but as soon as he locks the door, he slams House against the wall and kisses him. He doesn't even care enough to lock the door, to do anything— it's a single stall bathroom, they should be fine. He hopes they're fine, even if the idea of anyone seeing him like this makes his insides burn up with want.

"House," he breathes into his mouth, grunting as he pistons his hips against his dress pants. He's already getting hard, just at his desperation, at how much he wants him. House is always like that, just as much as he is— they need each other, so they get off on it. It's the logical step.

"Wilson," he groans, a hand clawing at his back. "I didn't know you liked me in a suit so — agh — so damn much."

"Well, I do," he says through open-mouthed kisses, mouth leaning down to start working at his collar, at that stupid black bow tie, trying to get his mark in, to suck a blemish onto his perfect skin. "You look — perfect like this. Wish you'd wear suits more often."

"It'd wear the novelty off," he grumbles as he unzips his dress pants, his cock immediately poking out of the hole in them. "And, besides, I can't be going commando every day."

Wilson's eyes widen as he looks down. "Did you know I was going to get hot and bothered?"

House's lips curl into an easy smile, wrapping his hand around himself, idly working at getting himself harder, his cock more eager for the treatment Wilson has in store for it. "You've always been hot and bothered for this," he says without an ounce of a doubt. "I've just decided that today's as good as any to indulge this particular whim."

"Sure," he mumbles as he sinks onto his knees. The sink is in front of them, enough so that if House turns his head he can see himself resting his back against the wall, Wilson's head barely visible in the reflection. "You're not indulging anything, you like getting sucked off."

"I do," he says. "It's the whole suit kink thing I'm indulging."

Wilson rolls his eyes and opens his mouth, warmth immediately engulfing House's cock. He gasps out and he's immediately grasping at Wilson's hair, tilting his head back and hitting the hard wall. He only lets out a little grunt of pain, but he doesn't deter Wilson in his movements in the least, still grabbing at strands like that's the only thing he'll ever be able to do.

"Wilson," he chokes out, hips twitching and jerking up into his mouth. Wilson doesn't gag, doesn't stop in the least. He bobs his head slowly, teasingly, looking up at House through his lashes as he takes more of him in. "Wilson," he cries out.

Wilson doesn't respond. He keeps a hand on House's good leg, stroking at his dress pants absentmindedly, taking in the sight of House coming apart at the seams while dressed like this. He's sweating, a fine line of it trickling down to the collar of his suit, dampening it along with the bow tie. He looks divine like this, panting and grabbing at him, all while dressed to the nines.

He bobs his head farther down, his eyes finally fluttering shut as he focuses completely on the sensation of House's cock pressing down his tongue, into his mouth. He sucks on it intently, swirling his tongue around the length like he can't get enough— and really, he can't. With how House writhes and pulls at his hair, with how he's sweating, ruining his suit, his dress pants, how he went commando at this stupid fund raiser just because of the chance that maybe, just maybe, Wilson would end up in this position. And well, now he's indulging that possibility at its fullest, because how could he  _ not _ get House off in such a state?

House's hips rock forward slightly, sending Wilson into his first gagging motion, but he doesn't stop. He doesn't take a breather; he won't take a breather until House comes undone with the work of his mouth. The sight is admirable, too, when he thinks about it for longer than a millisecond amongst the bliss of House's length deep into his throat. House fully dressed, in a suit; how he's in a suit too, how he doesn't have his pants pulled down in the least. It's just his fly, just enough for him to suck him off. Hell, he can barely catch sight of his balls.

"God," House cries out, hips jerking as he grabs Wilson's hair, guiding his movements. It's jerky, it's sharp, his head being pulled up and down and him just being along for the ride. But it's good, all things considered, how House loses control by exerting control. How he whines and whimpers and moans as he guides Wilson, shows him exactly  _ how _ to slobber all over his cock. "Wilson, Wilson—  _ ngh, _ fuck, Wilson—"

He doesn't pull off, even as much as he wants to tell House that it's alright, that he can come. Their dynamic is shattered in their moments of pure need, a whirlwind of desperation. All they know is that they  _ want _ each other, without titles or derogatory names or ropes or gags. All they have is each other, their sheer passion, how its enormity threatens to disgust them both.

House comes, eventually, spills right into Wilson's warm throat, leaves him no choice but to swallow. Not that he's complaining, anyhow, audibly letting the come go right down his throat as he looks up at House, eyes lidded and his mouth open ever so slightly.

"I think you liked that," he says, not quite accusingly. He zips his fly back up, goes to check himself in the bathroom mirror. He looks almost decent, really, the sweat easily being able to be chalked up to a hundred different reasons that don't involve messy bathroom blowjobs.

Meanwhile, Wilson looks like a disaster. His hair, which he took cautious care of throughout the morning, is ruined, his lips pink, a fine line of drool still down his chin. He cleans that up and looks down at himself, groaning before attempting to fix his hair, even if just a little.

"I did," he says. "The novelty will wear off, though. So don't go around without boxers on too much."

House laughs, loud and bright. "I'll try my best."

Wilson can't help but lean in and straighten up his crooked bow tie. He kisses him on the lips. a quick peck. "I appreciate the effort."

They wriggle out of the bathroom and back into the event, hands brushing together. From the poker game, Cuddy's head snaps up and she gives them an inquisitive look, brows raised.

"Should I tell her that you—?" Wilson starts.

House grumbles, "Don't embarrass me in front of our girlfriend."

He snorts before walking to the poker booth, sliding onto the seat right next to Cuddy's. House settles next to him. "I'm sure you've told her a lot worse," he says before turning to kiss her.

Yeah, fund raisers are great.


End file.
